


Top That

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ACD Canon References, Gen, Prompt Fic, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hat wasn't the biggest surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> Written in response to the following prompt: A missing hat: any sort of hat, top hat, bowler, woolly hat etc and missing can be stolen or misplaced or used as a tea cosy.

John stopped in the middle of the sitting room, Tescos bag dangling from one hand. He blinked, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t seeing things.  
  
Sherlock lounging on the sofa in his dressing gown? Nothing unusual about that.  
  
Sherlock sitting upright on the sofa in his dressing gown, using a high-powered magnifying glass to examine a top hat? Slightly less common, but again, not stare-worthy.  
  
A leather top-hat, with bullets set in the hat-band, a set of gears emerging from the top, and a monocle on a chain clipped to one side?  
  
Yeah, that was definitely worth the second look.  
  
“Where on earth did you get that?” he asked, coming closer.  
  
“One of Dimmock’s sergeants found it, along with a bag of fancy catered dinner,” Sherlock answered without looking up. “He came across an altercation, a group of young men hassling and attacking an older man. When the sergeant blew his whistle, they all ran, including the older fellow, who dropped the hat and the bag. Apparently it was an entire Christmas spread, roast goose with chestnuts and all. The dinner wouldn’t keep, of course, so the sergeant and his family should dine well tonight. But he felt badly about the man losing his meal, so he brought me the hat in hopes that I could track down the owner.”  
  
“Shouldn’t take you long, not with a hat like that,” John remarked. Privately he wondered why Sherlock had agreed to look at the hat at all. Even if he was really, truly, bored – which, all right, he’d been sulking on the sofa moaning about how hatefully dull everything was for nearly two days now, so yeah, bored, but this bored? – or the sergeant in question was Hopkins, who made no secret of his hero-worship of Sherlock. Sherlock might do it for him, simply because he wasn’t entirely immune to flattery, and Hopkins laid it on with a trowel.  
  
“It’s an expensive hat – not custom-made, but only a small number made in this line – popular with something called ‘steampunks,’ of all things.” Sherlock sounded both scornful and confused as he looked up at John at last. “According to the manufacturer’s website, among other sources, it’s some kind of Victorian-based roleplay, only with devices that supposedly run on steam or clockworks, but couldn’t possibly actually work based on the pictures I saw. Do people really pay four hundred pounds for a hat as part of a fancy-dress costume for an era that never really existed?”  
  
John shrugged. “I had a mate in medical school who liked to spend all his spare time and money dressing up in Regency costumes for meetings of the Jane Austen Society. So yeah, it happens.”  
  
Sherlock blinked. “The Regency era existed.” He frowned. “Why do I have that fact cluttering up my mind palace?”  
  
“Because I gave you a book of famous Regency murderers last Christmas, that’s why,” John reminded him. “And trust me, the Regency Shaun dressed up for wasn’t exactly closely based in reality.”  
  
“Why did he do it?”  
  
“Women. Almost 90 percent of the people attending the events were female, or so he said.”  
  
Sherlock scowled irritably. “Irrelevant, unless steampunks have a similar gender disparity and our mystery man shares your friend’s motivations. The costuming aspect would explain the old-fashioned hair cream used by the man who owns this hat, however, and possibly why he’s sweated enough to badly stain the lining of this hat.” He put down his magnifier and turned the hat in his hands. “Unfortunately there isn’t much more I can deduce from this hat, other than the fact that the man is over six feet tall, dyes his hair, is diabetic, and owns at least one Siamese cat. For more precise identification, I’ll need to see the records of the manufacturer.”  
  
John nearly dropped his Tesco bag. For as many times as he’d seen Sherlock pull the most amazing details about someone from the most mundane objects, he still found his deductions nearly magical. “Let me guess – cat hairs on the hat, human hair caught on the inside show traces of dye, but how did you know about his height, or the diabetes?”  
  
Sherlock’s expression changed to a secretly-pleased one that he almost never showed anyone else but John. “Ketones from the sweat in the lining. You can still smell them, and they’re absolutely distinctive markers of a diabetic condition. As for the height - ”  
  
Sherlock’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message, and he dropped the hat and the conversation in favor of fishing out his phone from his dressing-gown pocket. “It’s from Hopkins. Says he found something extraordinary inside the roasted goose. ‘Picture to follow.’ Idiot, why didn’t he simply send the picture first? Image files always take longer than simple text messages, particularly with the shoddy data plan he has…”  
  
He didn’t finish his thought, pausing as his phone vibrated again. His eyes widened, and John crowded close, curious to see what had caused such a dramatic reaction.  
  
The picture was grainy, and slightly out of focus, obviously taken with Hopkins’ mobile. There was a bunch of lumpy stuff that John guessed was chestnut stuffing, and in the middle of it, something chestnut-sized but bright blue, faceted, and sparkling in the flash from the camera.  
  
John felt his jaw drop a little. “Is that…”  
  
“The missing royal sapphire? Almost certainly.” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled almost as brightly as the gem in the photo as he sprang up from the sofa and threw off his dressing-gown before snatching up his suit jacket. “Come on, John, we’ve a Christmas goose to inspect!”  
  
John quickly shoved the entire Tescos bag into the refrigerator while Sherlock slipped into his shoes. “First time I can remember you being excited about a dinner,” he laughed.  
  
Sherlock just grinned at him as they ran down the stairs to hail a cab.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, of course, a partial modern retelling/pastiche of the classic ACD Holmes canon case "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle." Should I ever get any ideas about how modern BBC might tackle the rest of it, I'll add it here.
> 
> No offense meant to steampunks, members of the Jane Austen Society, or anyone else who is passionate about costuming and roleplaying. I greatly admire the artistry that goes into costuming, and the effort required to do it well; but I can see John and Sherlock might not understand it.


End file.
